J. T. Goodwin
Three dark men stand and stare
Draped in black, silence falls
The cold iron I clutch in my hand
And there he stands, the Asian
I lose my sight for just a moment
And he moves
When my sight returns again
There he know stands, the Asian

Look to the sky, sun in my eye
The heat becomes too much
When consciousness does return
The Asian is gone

Alone at night, wind through trees
Sit and listen to all the strange sounds
He was on the corner, he was on the bridge
Or was he really here at all
The loudest sound ever heard
And a cry that will last forever
For just one moment our eyes did meet
And the Asian takes a fall.

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